Every person in the company is printed, in all the papers, with every title he bears.

Crowds lined the streets in front of the palace to see the carriages go in and to guess who was in each.
To-morrow the Diplomatic Corps calls on King Christian and to-morrow night King George commands us to attend the opera as his guests.
Whether it's the court, or the honours and the orders and all the social and imperial spoils, that keep the illusion up, or whether it is the Old World inability to change anything, you can't ever quite decide.

In Defoe's time they put pots of herbs on the desks of every court in London to keep the plague off.

The pots of herbs are yet put on every desk in every court room in London.

Several centuries ago somebody tried to break into the Bank of England.